


A Menagerie of Drabbles

by AngelQueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Crossover, Drabbles, Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of 20 fics based on a set of pre-established prompts, all focusing on Christopher Pike.</p><p>Written for the LJ community <a href="http://20-fics.livejournal.com">20_fics</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Room with a View

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: 'black'.

For him, the best view outside a window is space and stars. Black with pinpricks of white. It’s a sight he loves like no other.

So waking up every morning to a view of the bay or the city is hardly the joy it is to most people. Chris makes the best of it, though, and focuses on his current task - recruiting for Starfleet, in competition with other prestigious institutions, many of which are centuries older than the Academy.

Still, not a day goes by that he doesn’t long to be lost in the blackness of space.


	2. Prank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'victim'.

Chris is going to kill Jim. He stands on the Academy green, gaping at the seething mass of chaos in the center of the area. Balloons are dumped haphazardly everywhere, drifting with the breeze. Streamers are draped on the tree branches.

There's also the enormous banner.

‘HAPPY DEMOTION DAY, CAPTAIN PIKE!’, is scrawled across the banner in yellow-green paint, the color of Starfleet’s command tunics.

“Just when we thought we’d made him grow up, he does something like this,” Nogura mutters.

Chris snorts. “Kirk will never give anyone the satisfaction of thinking they’ve made him do anything.”


	3. In Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'love'.

She’s sleek and clean, new and untouched. She shines bright against the clear Iowa sky, blotting out the stars, making them unimportant in comparison. 

She’s the most beautiful thing Chris has ever seen. 

Chris has been in love before. The _Yorktown_ held his love for over a decade before he finally passed her on to the care of Number One. The _Cheyenne_ also had his devotion for a time. This ship, though, she’s different.

The _Enterprise_ may just be the love of his life. If she is, he has no complaints.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'predictable'.

The weekly report from the _Enterprise_ always comes through late Saturday night. Chris always makes a point of staying up to see it arrive in his inbox and reading it before he turns in. It never fails to be the most entertaining reading of the week, even if it’s usually in Spock’s dry, factual tone.

The following morning, Chris sits down at his desk, stirring the creamer and sugar into his coffee while glaring at the stack of PADDs his assistant has stacked and waiting for him. Paperwork. He hates paperwork.

He picks up his coffee and takes a slow, deep sip, savoring the hot, bitter liquid. Leaning back in his chair, Chris closes his eyes and murmurs, “Three… two… one.”

The door to his reception area where Yeoman Rivers is already hard at work slides open. Since the door to Chris’ own office is wide open, he has a perfect view of the other room.

Komack stands in the doorway, his face red as he waves a PADD in front of him wildly. “PIKE!” He roars. “KIRK BLEW UP A FUCKING SUN!!”

Chris suppresses the desire to bust out laughing. _Right on time._


	5. Banter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'sink'.

“Hold on, Captain,” Chris growls as he struggles to keep a grip on Jim while also scooping water out of their raft. The storm is rocking it violently, and the water keeps sloshing over the sides. This state of affairs isn’t helped by the fact that Jim is unconscious from a blow to the head, courtesy of those who pursued them all the way to the water. “That’s an order,” he adds for good measure.

He doesn’t know if Jim can hear him over the thunder, but Chris figures any little bit helps. Jim has always responded to his voice, so he can hope that this isn’t the exception.

The water keeps coming in and Chris keeps trying to toss it back out, all the while keeping one eye on Jim and the other on the sky, hoping that Spock got their message and is sending a shuttle to get them before there’s nothing left of them but fish food.

Jim groans and his eyes flutter. "Since... when do I... follow orders?" he slurs.

"If you don't follow this one, I swear I'll take the _Enterprise_ back," Chris promises.

"Over... my sinking... corpse."


	6. Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'ghosts'.

Nero thinks he’s left Chris alone once he’s forced the codes for Earth’s defenses out of him. The mad Romulan and his cohorts are gone, ready to visit the genocide of Vulcan on Earth, but Chris isn’t alone. The ghosts remain.

He doesn’t know most of them - Vulcans, untold numbers of them, staring at him solemnly. There are others, though, people he has known for years. Cadets, many of whom he recruited. Officers, who have served Starfleet with honor and distinction, but are now less than dust. 

Chris sees George Kirk standing among them, the only one who actually speaks.

“If you got my son killed, Chris, what that son of a bitch just did to you will seem like child’s play in comparison to what I will do to you.” There is no mercy in George’s voice or eyes.

Chris flinches. He's tried not to think about Jim, about Olsen and Sulu who also made the jump. Vulcan is gone, but he knows Jim wouldn't have stopped trying to prevent it, would've fought for the end. There’s little chance…

Three more deaths on his conscience. Three more to the billions.


	7. Chance Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'crash'.

Cadet Christopher Pike tries not to look like he’s running, even though that's exactly what he’s doing. It’s his first day of classes and he’s late! What a great impression to make on one of his instructors, being tardy for his first class.

He rounds the corner, knowing that his Basic Warp Design class is just down the hall and he might make it with a moment to spare -

It’s like hitting a brick wall, running into the other cadet, and Chris is so surprised that he falls backward on his ass, landing with an, “Oof!”

He looks up at the person he’s run into and immediately recognizes the bars on his uniform that identify him as an upperclassmen, and Chris groans inwardly. Just what he needs. Starfleet isn’t immune to hazing, and he just knows he’s going to be in for it -

“Oh, hey,” the cadet says, his blue eyes wide with concern. “You okay, kid?” He holds out a hand to Chris, who takes it and lets the other man pull him up.

“Yeah,” Chris says, “sorry. I’m late. My class,” he starts to stammer, “it’s just down the hall -”

The cadet glances over his shoulder. “Vance’s class?” he asks.

Chris nods, already starting to try to shuffle past, and clarifies, “Warp Design.”

“Ah,” the other man nods. “Don’t worry about it. Vance hasn’t been on-time for a class in a decade. He’s probably still in his office.” He grins. “Besides, I’m the TA for that class, so I can say you were with me. No one will mind.”

Chris blinks. He hasn’t been expecting friendliness. “Who are you?” he blurts out, and then kicks himself inwardly for the bluntness of the question.

Fortunately, the cadet doesn’t take offense. He just grins. “George Kirk. Fourth year.” He holds out his hand, this time for Chris to shake. “You?”

He returns the gesture almost mechanically, and replies, “Christopher Pike. First year.”

“Good to meet you, Christopher,” George says as he starts to lead the way down the hall. “If you have any problems, I’ll introduce you to my girlfriend. ‘Nona’s a wiz at warp design, and anything else that has to do with a starship’s engines.”

“’Nona?” Chris asks, even though he’s not sure how he’s suddenly on such good terms that an upperclassman is willing to offer him help.

“Winona Wilson,” George tells him. “She’s a fourth year too.” He grins, adding in a quieter tone, “And probably the biggest badass in Starfleet since old man Archer himself. But don’t tell her I said so. She prefers to let her rep speak for itself.”

George keeps chattering away even as they enter the lecture hall - he was right, though, Professor Vance isn’t there yet - and as they sit down, Chris wonders just what he’s gotten himself into.


	8. Flee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'SOS/Help'.

The howls of the natives fill Chris’ ears as he and the cadets race through the forest. They’ve so far eluded their pursuers, but he knows that once they exchange the cover of the trees for the wide-open space of the beaches, they run the risk of being shot at. 

Silently, Chris curses the ship that first discovered this world. He swears that if he gets back to the Academy alive, he’s going to write a report that will ensure that John Alden never captains anything but a garbage scow ever again.

“Sir,” Jim shouts from up ahead, “beach is ahead!”

“Got it,” Chris replies. As he runs, he pulls his communicator and activates it. “Pike to _Dublin_ ,” he snarls. “Prepare for emergency beam out! Track our signal! Five to beam up!”

_“Sir,”_ the communications officer replies, _“transporters can’t beam -”_

“We’re about to come out onto the beach,” Chris interrupts. “Beam us out the moment you get a signal!”

He doesn’t hear the officer’s response, just assumes that the crew will do their jobs.

The first shot comes the moment they leave the trees. The arrow whistles past Chris’ ear, but thankfully doesn’t hit anyone. “Down!”

They crouch in the sand, listening to the natives tear through the brush. Then there is the jingle of the transporter. Chris is about to breathe a sigh of relief, when the next arrow flies. He turns to look over his shoulder -

Only someone crashes into him, knocking him to the ground just as the transporter takes them away. When they rematerialize, Chris stares up to find Jim Kirk staring down at him.

The cadet smirks. "Don't fancy seeing you stuck full of holes, Captain."

Chris rolls his eyes.


	9. Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'misery'.

The room is white. The curtains are white. The machines are white. His bed and sheets are white. 

Chris is fucking _sick_ of white. He is sick of the room, of the curtains, of everything. He’s sick of the specialists asking him, “How do you feel?” and telling him, “We’ll know more when we do more tests.” They never know more.

He hates that he’s constantly on painkillers that barely dull the sciatic pain in his back. He hates the barely concealed pity in the eyes of his visitors. He can just imagine what is said outside of his room. “So terrible.” “It’s too bad.” “He’ll be lucky if he walks with a cane.”

The _Enterprise_ is gone, she and her five-year mission handed off to Kirk. The Admiralty have promoted him, but even the rank hasn’t worked to stop Chris from feeling useless, adrift. 

This isn’t how it's supposed to be. He’s supposed to be on the _Enterprise_ , taking her out. Not stuck in this _fucking bed_ , waiting to see if he’ll heal, or if his body will betray him yet again.


	10. Vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'cemetery'.

There’s nothing so eerie as a graveyard. Chris looks at the markers, all of them inscribed with the name of someone who didn’t make it home, sometimes not even in the form of a corpse. This is Starfleet’s tribute to its fallen - a marker with a name, rank, and two star-dates carved into it. It’s rather similar to the photographs he’s seen of Arlington National Cemetery in old Washington D.C., before that city was incinerated during World War Three.

Chris strolls through the rows, familiar with the path. It’s one he’s walked dozens of times.

He stops underneath a cherry tree and stares down. He’s visited this marker for years, but it's not until now that he actually feels a connection to it. Seeing the devastated face of his best friend as she carries her son off the shuttle, conspicuously without her husband at her side, has struck something in him.

Chris kneels down in front of the marker. He traces the inscription with a single finger.

_Joshua P. Pike_  
Lieutenant Commander  
2181.11-2219.59 

He wonders if Jim Kirk will someday do what he is doing now.


	11. Leaky Pipes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'drift'.

If he pays attention, all he can hear is the rhythmic drip of water off from leaky pipes. Nero’s ship is falling apart, Chris realizes. He wants to laugh. If the _Enterprise_ had been able to get in one lucky hit, they would have been able to disable the monstrosity. But luck had not been with them, and now the Vulcans were an endangered species because of it.

These thoughts run through his mind several times over the course of his captivity, and it hurts every single time. So he tries not to focus on it, tries not to focus on anything in particular. Not his failures, not the consequences of those failures, and definitely not that damn drip. Instead he just drifts, thinks of past missions, where victory was snatched from the jaws of defeat. It only stands to reason, Chris realizes bleakly, that there would come a time when victory would be an impossibility.

Such thoughts aren't ones he wants to focus on, so it's no wonder that he drifts.

It isn’t until a bruised and bloody face appears over him that Chris focuses again. Jim. 

“What’re you doin’ here?”

“Just followin’ orders.”


	12. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'unexplained'. 
> 
> Crossover/fusion with _Harry Potter_.

It all occurs so quickly that Chris isn’t sure _what_ happens. One second he is in the midst of talks with the leader of the Parstenians, Hardo, and the next the leader’s son is lunging at him, a wicked knife grasped in his hand and about to sink into Chris’ unprotected flesh.

There is chaos as Chris raises his hands to defend himself, to push the teen away, and he can hear his security officers shouting as they too lunge to try and pull him out of the line of danger. The Parstenians are also shouting, Hardo in particular as he struggles to call his son off from his insane actions. The boy, Carsten, snarls in rage as he smashes into Chris. Though young, he is strong, but Chris has the instincts of hardened experience on his side, and has become used to sudden attacks. The struggle is a vicious one nonetheless, and several times Carsten nearly succeeds in stabbing him in the chest.

Chris quickly forgets about everything else, though, when a jet of strange red… light shoots in from just to Chris’ left, hitting the boy in the chest and knocking him away. The knife clatters to the floor, deceptively harmless.

No one else seems to have seen what Chris did, and he doesn’t mention it in the aftermath of the incident. They just assume that Chris executed a well-aimed blow that separated him and Carsten. The next several hours are spent trying to do damage control, to prevent the diplomatic talks from failing.

It’s not until many hours later that Chris realizes that his XO was the only person on Chris’ left. Hermione Granger has only been his first officer for a few months and he still doesn’t know her very well, though she came with the highest recommendations from her old Academy instructors and previous commanders. Even Number One praised the young woman, calling her work ‘exceptional’.

Before Chris knows what he’s doing, he’s at the door of Hermione’s quarters, pressing the door chime. The door opens several long moments later, revealing Hermione wearing a silk dressing robe and looking as exhausted as he feels. They stare at each other in silence, and Chris is suddenly struck with the inexplicable feeling that everything he thinks and knows about the universe is about to change for good.


	13. How It Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'lost'.

The first time the _Enterprise_ dropped off the face of the map, there was a literal shit storm at Headquarters. The admirals were screaming for the ship to be found, that Kirk was liable to start a war if left alone too long.

Three days later, the ship reappeared, and the Federation diplomatic corps was informed that they had a new candidate who was looking to join the Federation, the first since Vulcan’s destruction.

The second time, they disappeared for a week, only to return carrying evidence of a plot by a rogue Orion Syndicate assassin looking to kill the Federation president.

Chris read the reports thoroughly every time, the same reports that the rest of the Admiralty was reading, and couldn’t help but chuckle. So many, admirals and other officers alike, had predicted that this young crew wouldn’t last a week, even with a few experienced officers like Spock, Scott, Giotto, and Parcheck there to guide them. Instead, much to everyone’s shock, the crew was thriving, and seemed to always be where it was most needed - to entice a new world to join the shaken Federation, to prevent the murder of a popular official, and so on. 

It wasn’t the crew that was lost, it was the admirals. They didn’t know how to handle a pack of people they considered to be children that didn’t actually need them to hold their hands.

Chris grinned to himself. The crew would be just fine.


	14. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'fallen leaves'.

Normally, autumn is a bustling time at the Academy. Cadets are usually bustling about, greeting friends if they are returning or learning the grounds if they are new. The air often has a bite to it in the evening, a sign of the cooler weather ahead. 

Not so this year. The Academy is silent and nearly empty. The younger cadets are still at home, resting in the arms of their families. The older ones are either on the _Enterprise_ , preparing to ship out on its first mission, or are now, literally, atoms being sucked into a black hole that used to be Vulcan.

Chris sits on a bench, hating that the only sound on the Academy grounds is that of leaves that should be crunching beneath the boots of people who are not there.


	15. Details

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'noise'.

Chris knew every detail about the _Enterprise_. He knew the exact specifications for the engineering deck (and thus knew that the designers had added a little room for ‘research and development’ but was really for a still). He knew how many crew members could safely inhabit one of the dorm decks (seventy was the maximum according to regulations, but eighty could fit in a pinch). 

He also knew that the bulkheads were supposed to be soundproof. ‘Supposed to’, being the operative phrase.

The rapid, rhythmic beat that pounded out from the very walls gave lie to the ship’s specifications, and the further he walked the corridor, the louder it became. He was clearly coming closer to the sound’s origins.

He stopped at the doors of one of the cargo bays, which slid open at his approach. The moment they did so, however, Chris was nearly knocked backward by the enormous wave of _sound_ that knocked into him. 

The cargo bay resembled nothing of what it was intended for. The lights had been altered to give off a strobe effect. The containers, which held spare parts, non-perishable food, and other supplies, had all been shunted out of the way, clearing the majority of the floor. The noise was even more deafening, and while much of it came from the crowd gathered inside, even more of it came from the music. 

The cargo bay had been turned into a fucking _night club_.

Chris gaped in the door way for several seconds, until Jim Kirk appeared in front of him, a bright grin on his face and a shot glass in his hand.

“Hey, Admiral!” Jim greeted cheerily. “Welcome to the party!”


	16. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'burn'.

The fury is red hot inside him as he stares at the classified report in his hands. He’s read it through once, twice, three times, and still the anger does not abate.

“Why was I not told?” Chris bites out. He congratulates himself on at least _sounding_ calm, but when James Komack flinches, he realizes that he may not be as calm as he thought after all.

“It was need to know.” At least Komack has enough backbone to not allow his voice to waver.

“I recruited him,” Chris protests. “I was his faculty advisor at the Academy.” He pauses to glare at Komack before adding, “I had to talk you and several of the others into keeping him on whenever he shoved Starfleet’s inadequacies in your faces! Damn it, James, I, of all people, should have known!”

The other man stares at him, matching Chris’ fire with his own. Glaring, he snaps back, “The truth is _he_ didn’t want you to know, or anyone else for that matter!” Komack nods to the PADD in Chris’ hands. “Look at the security surrounding that report and anything that links Kirk and Tarsus Four, Christopher. Starfleet’s programmers can’t even _begin_ to make heads or tails of it, and only a few people are able to access any of the information it protects.”

Chris looks down again at the report. He hadn’t wanted to believe any of this, hadn’t wanted to think of what a teenage James Tiberius Kirk would have had to do to survive Kodos and his death squads. He’d known that Winona Kirk hadn’t been in the best state of mind in the years after the _Kelvin’s_ destruction (in truth, she’s _still_ not, which probably explains why Jim refuses to speak of her, even when asked), but he’d never thought her so unstable that she packed off one of her sons to a colony that had been showing signs of instability for years.

“Kirk put those protections up himself, Chris,” Komack continues, unaware of the direction Chris’ thoughts have gone. “On the files of the other eight survivors as well. He wanted to make sure that no computer-savvy reporter got their hands on their names, or, worse, some supporter of Kodos that slipped through the cracks.” The other admiral stares at him intently. “Kirk agreed to let you see these files because of the anniversary and the memorial ceremony. Since you’re to be Admiralty’s representative and the _Enterprise_ is to be your escort, he felt it best that you know beforehand.”

_Jim Kirk - encouraging cooperation and the exchange of information,_ Chris thinks, wishing he could be amused by the irony. “Just in case,” he mutters. 

“Exactly. And because he trusts you to keep your mouth shut, just like the rest of us.” Komack’s mouth is set in a grim line.

“Who else knows?” Chris asks sharply.

“Besides us? Archer, Barnett, and Ortiz. Barnett and Ortiz were part of the relief effort sent to Tarsus,” Komack replies.

“And Archer is C-in-C now and gets automatic access,” Chris adds himself. There’s no need to add why Komack knows. He’s in charge of special operations. The man may be a blowhard, but he’s good at his job.

“We don’t expect anything to happen at the ceremony, but you and Jim are the ones most likely to spot anything unpleasant and be able to head it off before it gets out of hand.” Komack stands up, ready to take his leave of Chris. “Try not to be too pissed off at the kid, Chris. This isn’t going to be easy for him.”

Chris nods absently, barely noticing as the other man leaves his office. He looks at the PADD yet again. Everyone has always said that Jim Kirk is a survivor. He snorts to himself. Apparently, they don’t know the half of it. The anger inside him still churns violently, even more so as he thinks about Jim's behavior in the years that he's known him.

_I don't believe in no-win scenarios._ In the past, Chris has often thought that Jim came on that belief due to his father's sacrifice, once he'd stopped resenting George for dying and leaving him to grow up without him. Now, he realizes that there is much, much more to it. Jim has looked in the face of what should be one of the ultimate no-win scenarios of the twenty-third century and beat it. Where Kodos sought to destroy him and all the others like him, Jim survived. Small wonder he reacted to the Kobayashi Maru test the way he did.


	17. Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'smile'.

George’s smile had always captivated him. It was always so free, so beautiful that even after over two decades of seeing it only in holos and vids, it still could take Chris’ breath away. He still _dreamt_ about that smile. 

It was funny, how easy it was to take something as simple as a smile for granted, and to miss it like you missed a lost limb once it was gone.

The first time he met Jim Kirk, the kid’s features were marred by blood and bruises, and most of his resemblance to his father was corrupted by bitterness and derision. It wasn’t difficult, then, for Chris to differentiate between the two men. George had never had a bitter moment in his life. The majority of Jim’s life, on the other hand, had been one bitter moment after another.

But the first time Chris saw Jim smile - _really_ smile, not smirk, not grin, but _smile_ \- he froze. For a brief, frozen moment, it was like he’d been transported back in time, before the universe had gone insane and let crazy Romulans appear out of nowhere and kill people that Chris lo - cared about. 

In that single moment, he began to understand just why Winona had spent the past twenty-odd years running from her younger son. He might not like it, might actually despise her it, but he understood it.


	18. Undaunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'gravity'.

Sweat poured down Chris’ face and the muscles of his arms screamed in pain, but he refused to let it stop him. He could do this. He _would_ do this. Closing his eyes, he concentrated.

His physical therapy had been difficult. The Centaurian slug had done a number on his body, and his physicians had all warned him that his recovery was in uncharted territory. He could easily recover completely, or not at all. He could end up walking just as he always had, or be stuck in the wheelchair for the rest of his days.

Chris was determined to be closer to the more positive extreme, rather than the negative one. He _would not_ be stuck in that god damn chair for the rest of his life. When Kirk and the _Enterprise_ returned to Earth after the end of the first year of their mission, he was going to be standing there, waiting to greet them. 

Gravity, however, was an even more difficult opponent than his own injuries. When he finally slumped back down, Chris could barely catch his breath. Still, he remained undaunted.


	19. Infectious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: a twist of fate.

“I relieve you, sir.”

Chris stared up at Kirk and smiled faintly. “I am relieved.” He was. Who else was he to trust with his girl but the one man who loved her as much as he did? 

He struck out his hand, which Kirk met in a firm handshake, saying, “Thank you, sir.” 

Chris nodded. “Congratulations, Captain.” He paused, and glanced to his left, out into the crowd of cadets, officers, and family members. When he spotted the person he was looking for, he chuckled. “I think your father is proud.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw Kirk turn to follow his own gaze. Admiral George Kirk, hero of the _Kelvin_ , stood in the midst of the other Admirals, his eyes on both of them. He was beaming at them, his pride so bright that Chris couldn’t help but grin himself. George’s moods had always been infectious.

Kirk didn’t reply, just smiled as everyone broke into cheers. Chris let his escort pull his chair back, letting the kid have his moment. George may have inspired his second son to join Starfleet at eighteen, but the young officer had earned this adulation all on his own. George had saved the _Kelvin_ crew and gone on to become an admiral, but Jim had saved the Federation and had been awarded with Starfleet’s pride and joy.

It wasn’t orthodox by any means, but Chris had a feeling it would work out.


	20. Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: 'spin'.

They call him a hero, saying that his decision to obey Nero’s summons saved his ship and the lives of his crew. The news channels may focus their attention on Jim, Spock, and the command crew (nearly all of them a pack of children not even officially graduated from the Academy, which makes for a thrilling story), but they always have a moment for him too, pointing out that his faith in Jim and his subsequent decisions saved the _Enterprise_ and her crew from suffering the same fate as the rest of the fleet at Vulcan. 

Chris doesn’t feel like a hero. When he closes his eyes, he sees the wreckage of fleet, burning hulks floating around the _Narada_. He sees Vulcan collapsing in on itself (Nero took great pleasure in using that to soften Chris up before he actually started interrogating him), taking billions of lives with it, one of the Federation’s greatest races. All of them dead because he wasn’t fast enough. 

The Admiralty places no blame on him for it, saying there’s no way he could have known (Chris notices that they are silent on the matter of the defense codes that Nero wrested from him), but he knows that isn’t true. Jim knew because he’d read the dissertation. Chris fucking _wrote_ the damn thing, helped make sure that the term ‘lightning storm in space’ became one of the most recognizable phrases in the past quarter century. He should have caught it long before Jim staggered onto the bridge, shouting about Romulans.

But he didn’t. He was as oblivious as the other captains who led their crews and ships to their deaths.

And they call him a hero. 

They have no fucking clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little series of ficlets! :)


End file.
